


In the Shadow of Happiness

by phantomoftheliving (unmuted_silence)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Blood, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, implied eating disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-03-27 06:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13875315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmuted_silence/pseuds/phantomoftheliving
Summary: (tw) After announcing the upcoming world tour, Dan has a mental breakdown. Will Phil be able to save Dan from the demons of his mind or will Dan remain in the shadow of happiness?





	1. Chapter 1

“I can’t take it anymore!”

“Aaarrggghhh!”

Phil rolls over and glances at the clock: 1:52 A.M. _What is that nois_ e? He thinks to himself. He lies in bed for a moment, deciding between getting up to figure out what is happening downstairs or falling back asleep. His mind is made up when he hears glass shattering. He grabs his black-rimmed glasses off his bedside table and throws off his blue and green plaid duvet. As he makes his way downstairs he hears another enraged statement: “I hate everything!” Phil figures out that was the sound of Dan’s voice, coming from the kitchen. He follows the sound of glass shattering and angry words.

Phil freezes once he reaches the threshold of the kitchen. His blue eyes wide, mouth agape, as he takes in the scene that is playing out in front of him.

There are multiple empty bottles of alcohol tossed about the kitchen; some are shattered. Kitchen drawers and cabinets are opened, their contents emptied. Phil realizes the dishware-bowls, cups, plates and mugs-lay in colorful piles of glass and ceramic on the white tiled floor.

Dan-clad in black pajamas, his brown curls disheveled, sweat glistening on his forehead-violently swings open the cabinet under the sink. He extracts a small purple and yellow glass flower vase. He screams as he lifts it above his head and slams it against the marble counter. Purple and yellow crystals explode in the air like fireworks.

As Dan reaches for another vase, Phil finally has the courage to make his presence known. At a loss for words, Phil clears his throat to get his flat mate’s attention. Dan freezes, his right hand grasping a transparent blue vase.

“Dan?” Phil says softly. He is still stood in the doorway of the kitchen, too afraid to approach his best friend.

Dan swallows, his hazel eyes avoiding Phil’s azure ones. In one final fit of rage, Dan lifts the vase and chucks it against the wall. Grey paint chips mix with blue glass as Dan collapses to the floor with a deafening scream. He is sobbing and on the verge of hyperventilating.  

Phil waits a few moments until he determines that it is safe to approach his friend. As he carefully makes his way to Dan, Phil’s mind is racing a million miles a minute: _Why is Dan acting like this? Why is he drunk at two in the morning? Why is he crying? What am I going to do?_ Phil opts to remain calm and gentle with Dan. He doesn’t want to set him off again. He uses his foot to clear away a pile of glass shards and sits next to Dan.

“Daniel,” Phil says as calmly as he can. He carefully places his hand on Dan’s arm. He sniffles in response as to acknowledge Phil.

“I’m going to be honest with you,” Phil begins, “You are really scaring me. You are intoxicated and just obliterated our kitchen at 2 a.m. I don’t know what sparked this outrage or if you are a danger to yourself or me. But right now, I think we need to focus on getting you calmed down.  Do you agree?”

Dan takes a sharp intake of breath and lets out a heartbreaking sob. He buries his face in his knees. Before Phil can speak again, Dan wails. This time he leans into Phil. Phil takes this gesture as Dan’s way of agreeing with his suggestion.

Phil engulfs Dan in a hug, attempting to comfort his best friend. Phil places his chin on Dan’s head, his curly hair tickling his skin. He notices his hair smells like strawberry shampoo.

Phil holds Dan for what feels like hours. Dan remains curled in on himself. Sobs turn to hiccups which turn to sniffles. Phil racks his brain, trying to figure out what caused Dan’s outburst.

******

By the time Dan’s breathing evens out and his sniffles are few and far between, it’s nearly four in the morning.

They are still sat on the cold tile floor. Phil’s right hand is rubbing circles on Dan’s back. His left hand is slowly threading through his brown curls. Silence dominates the room.

“I’m sorry,” Dan finally squeaks, muffled by his arm. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

He lifts his head to lean on Phil’s shoulder. Phil smells alcohol on his breath. He tries to make eye contact with Dan, but Dan is avoiding his gaze.

“I’m sorry I destroyed our kitchen. I’m sorry for crying. I’m sorry for making you worry,” Dan rambles. He sounds a bit drunk.  

“I would say it is all okay Dan. But it’s not,” Phil replies. “This is so out of character for you and I’m concerned.” He adjusts so he is sitting cross-legged in front Dan.

Dan finally makes eye contact with his roommate. “I just wanted to feel something, Phil,” Dan admits. His mocha eyes were vacant and dull. His cheeks are tear-streaked and his hands are shaking slightly.

“What do you mean?” Phil inquires, his face contorted with worry.

“I haven’t felt any kind of emotion for so long. I just broke. I saw how happy you were after announcing our world tour yesterday. I realized I didn’t share the same joy. I was emotionless.”

Phil was lost in thought as he ran a hand through his jet black hair, biting his lip. They could sense the tension in the air. Dan swallowed before continuing. He dropped his gaze to his hands, which were fidgeting in his lap.

“Is that why you started drinking?” Phil asks.

Dan nods slowly. They seldom drank, maybe a bottle of wine over a fancy dinner every once in a while. Dan never got hammered.

“I thought I could invoke some sort of emotion-anything-if I had some alcohol. My mind was vacant after the first bottle. I was still void of emotion after the second. I was becoming upset by the time I opened the third. Frustration and alcohol started coursing through my blood when I finished off the fourth bottle. I stopped caring about feeling anything by the time I reached for my fifth. Frustration turned to anger and I couldn’t take it anymore,” Dan recounts with a sigh.

“That explains the outrage, I presume,” Phil stated.

Dan nodded again.

Phil took a deep breath. He had no idea his best friend was struggling so much.

They sat in silence for a while longer. Both were starting to get sleepy.

“Do you feel anything now?” Phil finally asked.

“Would you hate me if I said no?”

“I could never hate you, Danny.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: mentions of depression/mental illness

It had been a long night for Dan Howell and Phil Lester. They retired to their separate bedrooms, exchanging quiet “goodnights.” The kitchen destruction would be sorted later.

Dan fell asleep the instant his head hit the pillow. Phil, on the other hand, was too worried about his best friend to sleep. He lay under his green and blue plaid duvet, his bedside lamp illuminating the room. He was lost in thought, staring at the ceiling. He could hear Dan’s snoring from across the hall.

A few hours later, the inklings of daybreak started peeking through his curtains as Phil reached for his laptop, located at the foot of his bed. _I’m clearly not going to fall asleep tonight, might as well lose myself on the internet_ , Phil commented to himself.

He adjusted his glasses as he waited for the internet browser to open. His fingers grazed the keyboard as he thought about what to search. He was desperate to figure out what caused Dan to have a mental breakdown. His keyboard clicked as he typed “my friend can’t feel emotions” into the search bar. His heart was thumping as the search engine loaded. “Signs of depression” was one of the first links. Phil’s stomach dropped.

 _Oh, Dan_. Phil sighed.

After browsing dozens of websites for more information, Phil was overwhelmed and exhausted. He shut his laptop and tried to fall asleep. Daylight was streaming through his window as unanswered thoughts streamed through his mind: _Should I tell Dan about what I found? What if he isn’t even dealing with anything and it was all a random event that happened last night? How am I going to help him? Can we survive this bump in Dan’s life?_

*****

It was ten in the morning when Phil decided to make some coffee. He was certainly going to need more than one cup today, given the lack of sleep he had. Dan was still asleep when Phil walked by his room on his way downstairs.

Phil spent the next hour cleaning the kitchen. Every piece of glass Phil swept up felt like he was picking up a shattered piece of Dan. He kept thinking of instances where Dan displayed signs of depression or some kind of unusual behavior. By the time he was finished tidying the kitchen, Phil was on the verge of tears.

He was getting out some paper plates, plastic utensils and disposable cups to temporarily replace their dishware when he heard Dan’s footsteps coming down the hall. _No Phil, don’t break down. Not in front of Dan._ He bit his lip in hopes of preventing any waterworks. Dan staggered into the kitchen, obviously hungover. He was still dressed in his pajamas and his hair was ruffled. He yawned as he sat down at the table.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” Phil asked as he poured Dan some water.

“Hi. I’ve been better, to say the least. Thanks for cleaning up the kitchen. I’m really sorry I lashed out. I know you are going to want to talk but I don’t think I can right now,” Dan replied. He was fidgeting with his hands, a nervous habit.

“Okay Dan,” Phil said as he handed Dan the glass of water. “How about we chat later today?”

“Maybe. I don’t feel up to much today so I think I’ll just stay in my room. Can you edit the new gaming video? I can look it over when you are done,” Dan questioned after taking a sip.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Your health is more important right now. Let me know if you need anything,” Phil said. He poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Will do. Thanks Phil.”

Dan finished his water. He threw the plastic cup in the garbage and walked out of the kitchen and back to the shelter of his room.

Phil spent far too long sipping his coffee. He was so lost in thought that he over-poured milk in to his bowl of Wheaties. _This is going to be a long day,_ Phil sighed.

******

Phil leaned back in his computer chair, stretching. It was 6 p.m. and he just finished editing the new video. He was surprised he was able to concentrate on the task at hand given his overwhelming thoughts of Dan’s situation. As he was waiting for the video file to save, his stomach grumbled, reminding him to eat dinner. Phil made himself some stir-fry and saved a plate for Dan. Phil doubted he had anything to eat that day.

Dan spent the day drifting in and out of sleep. His mind felt numb and he didn’t have much energy. He felt bad for dumping the video editing on Phil, but there was no way he was going to be able to sit at a computer and be creative. He wished he could sink into the mattress and dissolve into nothingness.

After dinner, Phil went to check on Dan. His door was ajar and he was lying awake in bed, staring at the wall. His hair was a mess, his face pale. Phil knocked lightly on the door to get Dan’s attention.

“Come in,” Dan said, his voice muffled by the black and grey blankets that were pulled up to his nose. His gaze remain fixed on the wall.

Phil walked gently into the room. The air felt heavy. Dan clearly had a mental breakdown less than 24 hours prior. He carefully sat on the foot of Dan’s bed, trying to find a way to break the deafening silence that encapsulated the two.

Phil cleared his throat, “I finished the video. I can send it to you or you can come watch it on the editing computer.”

Dan made eye contact with Phil, “Thanks for finishing it. I guess you can send it to me.” _There is no way I am going to get my body to do something as simple as going upstairs and watching a video_ , Dan thought to himself.

Dan rolled over to his side, facing away from Phil. “I’m scared, Phil,” Dan mumbled.

“What do you mean, Dan?” Phil nervously questioned.

“I’m scared I won’t feel emotions ever again. I was almost black-out drunk yesterday and I felt nothing. What if I’m broken, Phil? And can’t be fixed?”

Phil took a deep breath. He chewed his lip as he thought of an appropriate response. “You are not irreparable, Daniel.”

“How do you know that?” Dan harshly asked.

“Just because you feel emotionless now doesn’t mean you will be in this state for eternity. In my opinion, I think we should talk to a professional-a doctor or therapist or someone. I want you to feel something. Feel better. Not be scared.”

They sat in silence. Dan’s mind was fighting him for the millionth time that day: _You are sick Dan. Look how pathetic you are, leaving Phil to do all the work. You haven’t left your bed in hours. I know. You should just disappear. You are a burden to Phil. Yeah, I am. I’m a pain. I don’t deserve someone as great as him_.

Phil continued to chew on his lip. He stared at his feet as he debated if he should tell Dan what he researched earlier that day regarding depression. He didn’t want to make Dan more fearful. But he also felt like he needed to be honest with his best friend.

In over half the decade they have known each other, Phil has learned Dan has “bad days.” Phil is not immune to such days but Dan’s “bad days” are more on the severe side of the spectrum. Typically Dan would just wake up feeling “off.” He skips breakfast, probably lunch, maybe even dinner. His mind is a lightning storm of negative thoughts, shocking his system with every strike. On the particularly “bad days,” he doesn’t even get out of bed, too mentally and physically weak to battle the day. Other “bad days” aren’t as difficult; he can somehow manage to function, but he feels like a hollow shell, incapable of any emotion or positive thought.

On his “bad days,” Dan would assert he had a “migraine” or “didn’t sleep well” or just “didn’t feel great.” Phil would hesitantly accept Dan’s explanation to his behavior. Phil never pried for more information about Dan’s health. _Dan is an adult_ , Phil would remind himself, _and he can take care of himself._

Within a few days, Dan would be back to his normal, bubbly self. They would film a video or Dan would do a live show. Since Dan was capable recovering from his “bad days” relatively quickly, Phil didn’t waste much energy worrying about Dan’s health.

“Dan,” Phil said after a while. “How about you take a shower? It might help you feel better. I made your favorite stir-fry for dinner and saved you a plate. You really should eat.”

“Food doesn’t sound to appeasing right now but I guess I should shower,” Dan responded, rolling over again to look at Phil.

Phil smiled, pleased that Dan is trying to do something productive even though he is lost in the abyss of his mind.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my Dan and Phil Tumblr blog: phantomoftheliving


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: self-harm, blood, intrusive thoughts, mentions of bullying, depression

Dan went to the bathroom as Phil got an outfit ready for him to change into. Dan was out of it today-menial tasks seemed difficult-so Phil tried to help lessen the effort basic activities required. Fuzzy black Pokémon sweats, a grey sweatshirt with horns on the hood and some Pac-Man boxers were laid out on his beanbag chair. Phil went downstairs to start getting Dan’s dinner prepared.

Dan undressed as he waited for the water to heat. He glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror. _I look like a zombie,_ he commented to himself. He thought about taking a bath but that required more effort. He really wanted to go back to the solace of his bed.

He stepped under the stream of warm water which instantly relaxed him. He washed his tall, lean body; not bothering to wash his hair. Bad thoughts still demanded his attention. _Oh, you finally decided to be a human and take a shower. Didn’t think you were capable of such a simple task. Shut up._ _Bet you are going to lay around the rest of the night, too useless to do anything else_. _I said shut up._

His breath hitched when he noticed a shaving razor on the edge of the bath tub. An insatiable sensation spread across his arms and legs with the thought that crossed his mind: _Do it Dan. It’ll make you feel something, feel better._

Without thinking, Dan expertly dismantled the razor. The thin silver blade was held tight in his left hand. He took a deep breath. In three quick swipes, red was mixing with water, swirling down the drain. Tears pricked at Dan’s eyes. He refused to let them fall. His hands were shaking and his right thigh burned where three sloppy tallies were made. The shower water was getting cold but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

_That wasn’t enough. Do it again. Let it hurt._

His right hand, which now grasped the razor blade, was poised over his left thigh. _Good things come in three,_ he thought to himself as three more wobbly lines appeared on his skin.

_There you go, Daniel. Much better, isn’t it?_

“I’m so weak,” Dan whispered as he rinsed off the blade and placed it back in the razor. He stared at his thighs, watching the small cascade of blood washed down his skin. His hands were still shaking. _I haven’t done that in years. I really am pathetic,_ Dan realized. Tears fell down his face as the lukewarm shower water beat down on his back. Tears clouded his vision.

He flashbacked to the first time he had taken a blade to his fragile skin…

           

Dan was 15 years old. His self-esteem wasn’t the greatest at this point in his life. He was a bit of a loner and his parents worked long hours so he was left to his own devices. He had a particularly rough day at school. After a serious of derogatory insults, the school bully slammed his head against a locker, giving Dan an immediate headache. Dan had failed his history test and a math test, making his grades plummet even lower. It rained all day which didn’t improve his sour mood. As the day progressed, so did his negative thoughts.

By the time he got home from school, Dan couldn’t take it anymore. He threw his schoolbag down and ran to the bathroom, immediately locking the door.  He stared at his reflection as his mind beat him up: _You are such a loser, Daniel. Too weak to fight off a bully. You are so stupid. You failed not one, but two tests today. You are a waste of a human._

He raked his nails down his arms in frustration. The action didn’t help and his thoughts got louder. _What are you trying to do? Make yourself feel better. You will never be better, you know._

He swung open the medicine cabinet. He glanced at a bottle of sleeping pills. “No. I’m not that desperate. Not yet,” he said to himself. He reached for a pair of cosmetic scissors instead.

The next thing he knew, blood was dripping onto the bathroom counter, his right wrist burned. He felt numb. He figured it was better than feeling worthless.

“Good things come in three,” Dan said aloud. Two more shaky lines found their way onto his arm. Suddenly, his thoughts stop. No more noise, no more pain. Well, besides his wrist.

Satisfied with silence and a feeling of emptiness, he calmly cleaned the scissors and returned them to their place. He bandaged his arm, unlocked the bathroom door and went to his room.

 

Dan didn’t realize he was sobbing until Phil tapped on the door. “You okay Dan?” Phil’s yelled through the door, his voice was laced with worry.

“Uh-huh,” Dan lied. He turned off the water as he held in a sob. “Be out soon,” he said, hoping his voice sounded calm.

“Okay, food’s ready,” Phil replied and walked away.

Dan stood in the bathtub, trying to calm down. His hands were no longer shaking but his breathing was uneven. He didn’t want Phil to notice any blood on his bath towel, so he grabbed a dark blue towel and applied pressure to his wounds in attempt to stop the bleeding. Once the blood had diminished, he wrapped the towel around his waist and went to his room.

Dan was pleased Phil had set some clothes out for him. He changed and towel dried his hair. He was more exhausted than before the shower. _I should go eat since Phil made me dinner._ He slowly walked to the lounge, every step made his thighs sting.

“Hey,” Dan said to Phil as he sat down on the sofa.

“Hey Dan, feeling any better?” Phil asked.

“Eh. Not really,” Dan honestly replied.

“Wanna eat?”

“Not really but I should. Thanks for making me dinner.” Dan said as Phil went to the kitchen to get Dan’s plate of stir-fry.

The boys watched an episode of “American Horror Story” as Dan tried to eat. He managed to down a few vegetables and two spoons of rice before he felt nauseous. At the end of the episode, Dan took his plate to the kitchen and threw it away. He poured himself a glass of water and went back to room, grateful to be done with the basic tasks Phil asked him to complete.

Phil sat on the sofa in the lounge as he waited for Dan to return. His heart sank as he heard Dan walking back upstairs. Phil was disappointed his friend didn’t want to watch another episode. Nevertheless, he wanted to give his flat mate some space. Clearly, Dan was having an emotional and difficult day. On the one hand, Phil wanted to help Dan. He wished he knew what he could do to make Dan feel more like himself. On the other hand, he didn’t want to suffocate Dan with his supervision and concern.

Phil remained in the lounge a while longer, checking emails and re-blogging some artwork on Tumblr. By nine, his eyes were getting tired. He hadn’t slept much that night and figured he should call it a day.

He walked by Dan’s room on the way to his bedroom. “Hey Phil?” Dan called as his best friend passed by. Phil stopped and stood in Dan’s doorway. Dan was lying under his bedsheets, his wet hair splayed across the black pillowcase.

“What’s up?” Phil asked.

“Um, thanks for taking care of me. I know I’m a burden.”

“No you are not a burden, Dan. You’re just not feeling well. We should schedule an appointment for you to see a doctor tomorrow. See if we can get some answers,” Phil told Dan, watching his face for any response to his suggestion.

Dan looked up at Phil, his face laced with worry. “What if we don’t get answers?”

“We will, Dan. I won’t stop until we do. I will fight to the death so you can be your obnoxious self again,” Phil stated. His voice was confident. He needed to be strong for Dan.

Dan offered Phil a small smile. They wished each other goodnight. Phil went to his room, changed into his emoji pajamas and climbed into bed, immediately falling asleep.

Dan lay awake in his bed, tracing designs on his bedsheet as he stared at the wall, reflecting on the past two days. They released the tour dates for the upcoming world tour. Phil was so excited to be travelling the world and meeting fans. Dan had done his best to be elated, but he wasn’t really excited; he wasn’t really anything.

After announcing the tour, the boys sat in the lounge, answering questions on social media. Dan could tell Phil was enjoying interacting with their fans. Dan felt like this was just another task he had to complete.

Dan used to enjoy interacting with fans. He used to look forward to weekly live shows. He used to love greeting subscribers on the street, watching their faces light up with joy. Now it all felt like a chore, something on his laundry list he had to complete before he could be in the solitude of his room, hidden under a pile of blankets, being consumed by his mind.

He rolled over to face his piano. He sighed as he remembered how much he enjoyed playing it when they first moved to the flat. Now it was collecting dust. Next to his piano was the white desk that housed his gaming computer. He couldn’t recollect the last time he turned it on.

After tossing and turning for a while, he rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. His legs immediately stung from the breakdown he had earlier in the shower.

Dan was a shell of himself. The sting of his battle wounds was the only thing that kept him grounded as he succumbed to exhaustion.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After announcing the upcoming world tour, Dan has a mental breakdown. Will Phil be able to save Dan from the demons of his mind or will Dan remain in the shadow of happiness? (tw)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: mentions of depression; self-harm; intrusive thoughts; vomit

Dan woke up earlier than he would have preferred. He rolled over in bed and glanced at the digital clock on his desk: 7:15 a.m. He didn’t hear Phil up yet and he didn’t think he could fall back asleep so he decided to watch the video that Phil edited yesterday. He reached for his laptop that was on his desk. _At least I’m trying to do something productive today,_ he thought as the video loaded. He watched the video, made a few edits and emailed it back to Phil to post later.

It was almost eight in the morning and he was exhausted again. It was a kind of indescribable exhaustion; like a fatigue which stemmed from a black hole deep inside him.

He didn’t feel like being a functioning member of society. But Dan would feel guilty for staying in bed for two days in a row. With a groan, he got out of bed to make some coffee. He didn’t feel like taking a morning shower. He figured he would just bathe later that day but _the blade is still sitting on the side of the bathtub just waiti- “_ No, Dan, you are making coffee and breakfast,” he told himself, trying to avoid being lured in by the negative thoughts.

Dan was pouring a bowl of Crunchy Nut cereal when Phil entered the kitchen. “Good morning, nice to see you up Danny,” Phil remarked.

“Hi Phil, I’m making you breakfast,” Dan replied as he poured another bowl of cereal.

“Great thanks. I’ll go pick an anime to watch while we eat,” Phil said as he walked to lounge.

They watched an episode of an anime as they ate in silence. After the episode ended, Phil turned to Dan and asked “We should probably get some new dishware today. You wanna come?”

“I guess so,” Dan replied. Although he didn’t feel much better today, he felt stronger, like he could battle through the day instead of let the day defeat him. Staying home sounded better than going out but he would feel guilty making Phil replace what he destroyed. _A trip to the shops couldn’t hurt, right?_ He tried to justify his reason for going shopping.

******  


It was drizzling when they left the flat. Dan opened their oversize Pikachu umbrella. They walked side-by-side, avoiding people and puddles as they made their way to the store. Phil couldn’t help but smile knowing Dan was feeling well enough to go out. _Maybe Dan is getting better and over this whole thing_ Phil thought to himself, hopeful for his best friend.

They entered the store. Dan shut the umbrella and Phil grabbed a shopping cart. They made their way to the dishware aisle and picked up some plates, bowls, and mugs. Next, they did some grocery shopping.

Every few aisles, Phil would ask Dan if he was doing okay. After what felt the hundredth question, Dan jokingly said “I’m fine, dad. You don’t have to keep checking on me.”

“I want to make sure you are okay. I’m still worried about you even though you seem to be doing better,” Phil replied. Dan sighed as they continued shopping.

Dan was browsing a magazine display at the end of the aisle as Phil picked out some snack food. Dan picked up a “Seventeen” magazine to see if a cringe photo of him or Phil had been published in the magazine. He thumbed through the colorful glossy pages. Most of the articles were aimed at an audience of teenage girls so he didn’t really understand the appeal of such articles like “Does He Like You? Take This Quiz and Find Out!” or “Fastest Way to a Bikini Body.” However, an article towards the back of the magazine caught his eye: “My Experience with Depression.” Dan skimmed the article and realized he could relate to a number of the symptoms of depression. Before he could finish the article, Phil asked, “Ready to check out?” Dan quickly closed the magazine and returned it to the shelf. “Oh, yeah. Let’s go,” Dan replied.

******  


They returned to their flat around one that afternoon. After putting away their groceries, Phil offered to make Dan lunch. Dan said he wasn’t hungry and excused himself to go back to his room and rest. Phil shot him a disappointed look but let his best friend be. _Dan is an adult,_ Phil reminded himself, _and he can feed himself._

Dan shut the door to his room. He wasn’t planning on sleeping; he was on a mission. He sat down on his unmade bed and grabbed his laptop. He opened the internet browser and typed “what is depression?” His heart was beating out of his chest as he read the answer to his inquiry. One informational web page led to another and to another. Little did Dan know but his best friend embarked on the same web search only a few days prior.

 _I am probably depressed,_ Dan comprehended as he set down his laptop. This realization hit Dan like a train engine and the negative thoughts were the train cars: _I can’t even have a regular functioning brain. Now I’m a bigger disappointment to my parents, they are already displeased that I dropped out of university. I deserve this. I am never going to get over this. Phil is going to think I’m a burden. Phil will leave me. There goes our friendship. Best friends don’t want to be around depressed people._

Overwhelmed and overran by intrusive thoughts, Dan swung open his bedroom door, ran down the hall to the bathroom and vomited in the toilet. Once he was finished, Dan sat against the bathroom wall. His negative thoughts were starting to break him but he resisted to shatter. He attempted to calm himself down: _Dan, you’re freaking out over something you read in a teen magazine. You don’t have a professional diagnosis. You need to calm down. Take a deep breath._ As he exhaled, the bad thoughts started creeping back into his mind: _Hey Danny, you deserve this, remember? Enjoy the rest of your pathet-_

Suddenly there was a heavy knock on the door. “Dan?” Phil called through the door.

Dan didn’t respond. His demons were too loud for him to hear Phil.

“Danny?” Phil waited for a response. “Daniel?”

“Dan?” Phil was getting concerned. “I’m coming in.”

Dan watched the brass doorknob turn. He closed his eyes when Phil walked in. Dan didn’t want Phil to see him like this, so he thought it was somehow logical that if he can’t see Phil, Phil couldn’t seem him. Dan was so destroyed by his own being that he is sitting on a cold bathroom floor, too lost in his thoughts to speak.

Phil knelt down in front of his best friend. He brushed a brown curl out of Dan’s face. Dan opened his eyes and was met with Phil’s worried blue pupils staring back at him. Phil blinked as a small tear ran down his cheek.

“Why are you crying?” Dan asked his voice absent of emotion. He wished he could muster some kind of concern or care in his tone.

“I thought you were hurt or something happened to you,” Phil replied. “Or you did something to yourself,” he whispered as he stared at Dan. “I didn’t know if I was going to lose you Daniel.”

Dan sat in silence. Phil cast his gaze down to Dan’s hands, which were nervously scratching his thighs. _Oh, I didn’t realize I was scratching my scars_ Dan thought to himself. Phil grabbed Dan’s hands and held them in hopes of relaxing Dan.

“I-I’m o-okayy,” Dan said slowly. Every letter in the sentence was a lie and Phil could sense it.

Instead of calling Dan’s bluff, Phil let go of Dan’s hands and engulfed him in a hug. Phil tried to hold in a sob but he failed.

“Don’t cry over me, Phil. Please. I’m not worth that emotion. Don’t waste your tears on me,” Dan stated, his words again void of emotion-a stark contrast to a few days ago with his angry outburst in the kitchen.

“Daniel James Howell stop with that negativity,” Phil reprimanded Dan. He choked on another sob. Dan leaned away from Phil’s touch. Phil took this opportunity to wipe his face on his sleeve. Phil adjusted so he was sitting cross-legged in front of his friend.

“But it’s the truth, Phil,” Dan said quietly. Instead of fighting Dan’s statement, Phil stared at Dan, trying to read his thoughts and figure out where these self-hatred statements were stemming from.

Dan nervously played with his fingers. He didn’t like confrontation and felt uncomfortable with Phil staring at him. Dan took a deep breath and placed his hands on his legs. The boys sat in silence, neither of them knew what to say. Phil sniffled every few minutes. Dan started tapping his fingers on his legs. Subconsciously, his left hand went from his leg to his stomach and found his right hand. He nervously tangled his fingers together again. This action didn’t seem to calm his nerves. Dissatisfied, his left hand formed a claw shape and slowly dragged across his right wrist.

Phil had done enough research on the signs of depression that he had an idea of what was going through Dan’s mind. Phil sobbed as he stood up and ran out the bathroom. He knew it was a bad decision to abandon his best friend on the bathroom floor but his mind was a mess. Dan was left alone with his invasive thoughts as Phil slammed the front door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: self-harm, blood, intrusive thoughts, mentions of self-harm, blade

Dan sat on the cold bathroom floor as he replayed what had just happened. _Good job, Dan. You freaked out Phil and now he left. I know. You single-handedly destroyed your friendship with Phil._

“You know what I deserve?” Dan asked himself aloud. He reached toward the side of the bathtub and grabbed the shaving razor from where he left it the day before. He dismantled the razor and grasped the blade once again.

With a shaking breath and unsteady hand, he rolled up his right sleeve. With his left index finger, he traced the faint silver lines that permanently resided on his pale forearm. Before he added another line, he had a flashback to when he was 18 years old…

 

It was the end of his gap year from school and he was helping his mother pack up the last of his belongings. Dan was preparing to move to Manchester University to study law. He wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about any of it. The only positive was that Phil (a close friend he met online) lived near the university.

Dan reached up to remove a picture frame from his bedroom wall to hand to his mother to pack up with the rest of his photos. The long black sleeve that covered his arm had slid down in the process of reaching for the picture.

“Daniel!” she exclaimed. “What happened to your arm?!”

Dan looked down at his arm and immediately pulled the sleeve over the angry red and pink lines that had peeked out. He stuttered as he tried to think of a lie to tell his mother. “I, uh, was walking home, um, a few days ago and, d-dropped my house key into some, uh, prickly bushes. Had to retrieve my keys, you know? I, uh, scratched my arm in the process,” Dan explained. His last sentence sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Daniel,” his mother exclaimed, her words laced with care and hesitation.

“Dan! Bethany! Let’s get going!” Dan’s father called from downstairs.

“Coming!” Dan shouted back. He grabbed a box of his belongings and left the room, relieved that his father interrupted the conversation.

Dan never intended for anyone to see the damage he inflicted on himself when his thoughts became too loud. From that day forward, his thighs became his new canvas for the sickening artwork that would be created in his darkest moments.

 

 

_Blade in your hand again, Dan? Well, you know the routine. Go on._ His thoughts had taken complete control of his actions. He knew, at this point, any efforts to fight these thoughts would be futile.

Dan took a deep breath and proceeded with the routine that had become second nature:

One, two, three.

Roll up sleeve.

Switch hands.

One, two, three.

Silence.

Dan’s mind was silent. He found it humorous that a blade could silence his intrusive thoughts so quickly. He tossed the blade in the toilet and flushed it. He got up off the floor. He was shaky and weak from the day’s actions. Dan didn’t bother cleaning his arms or pulling down his sleeves. He didn’t care about anything at this point. _No use in hiding my work, Phil seems to already know._ _If I bleed out, so be it._

In a haze, Dan wandered into Phil’s bedroom. He collapsed onto his friend’s duvet. _I doubt I will ever see my best friend again._ Although it seemed odd, the comfort of Phil’s bedding helped ease his heartache. He wished he could exert enough effort to contact Phil and apologize. He wished he could care enough to talk to someone-his family, friends, anyone-about his invisible pain. He wished he could just be a regular person that didn’t have to fight internal battles every single second.

Dan lay on Phil’s bed for a while, replaying the best moments of their friendship, eventually falling asleep. Sleep was becoming his escape from the torment of reality.

******

Phil clicked his phone to check the time: 5:38 p.m. He had been wandering aimlessly around London, trying to clear his mind and formulate his thoughts. The sun was starting to set and it was getting chilly. He didn’t think to bring a jacket.

Once the streetlights started illuminating the sidewalk, Phil decided it was time to go home. As much as he wanted to avoid having to confront Dan about his breakdown in the bathroom, he knew he needed to help his best friend. _Abandoning Dan in our flat certainly isn’t going to help anything_ Phil thought to himself _._  

“Dan! I’m back! Sorry I was gone so long,” Phil said as he shut the front door and set down his keys. He made his way upstairs, expecting to see Dan in his room but it was vacant. He checked the bathroom: no Dan. Phil’s heart started to race as he called Dan’s name: no response. He walked into his bedroom and turned on the light.

“Oh my gosh, Dan!”

His best friend was on lying face down on his plaid duvet. Red splotches decorated the blue and green bedding. Panicking, Phil ran over to Dan and tried to shake him awake.

“DANIEL! DAN! GET UP!” Phil shouted as he shook his best friend.

Dan’s breathing was shallow and he had a pulse, albeit a weak one. Phil scrambled to pull out his phone from his jeans and dial 999. His voice was shaking as he told the dispatcher what happened.

 As Phil waited for help to arrive, he grabbed a quilt off the foot of his bed and tried to stop the blood flow. He kept trying to get Dan to regain consciousness.

Within ten minutes, there was a heavy knock on the front door. Phil breathed a sigh of relief: help had arrived.

Phil stood in the doorway of his bedroom as the medics checked Dan’s vital signs and placed him on the gurney. Phil was so traumatized and scared, he felt like he was going to pass out. He couldn’t lose Dan, his flat mate and best friend. Not after everything Dan has done for him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: intrusive thoughts, mentions of suicide, suicide attempt, mentions of self-harm, hospital stay

Tear tracks stained Phil’s pale face. He chewed his lip and nervously tapped his foot as he sat in a chair in the dull, grey waiting room of the hospital. The two abstract paintings hanging on the wall and one potted plant in the corner attributed nothing to improve the drab room.

“Daniel Howell?” a tall, blonde, nurse called.

Phil jumped out of his seat, his heart racing. “Yes. I’m Phil Lester. Dan’s my flatmate and best friend,” he told the nurse as he walked toward her.

“Please follow me. The doctor needs to ask you a few questions before you can see Daniel.”

He followed the woman into a small room that held a round table and a few plastic chairs. “Have a seat; Dr. Brown will be in shortly.”

Within minutes, a short, chubby, balding man in a white medical coat entered the room. He held a clipboard covered in notes.

He took a seat across from Phil before saying: “I’m sure you are anxious to know about Daniel’s status. I can tell you he is going to be fine. However, he will need to be admitted to the hospital for a period of time for observation and treatment.”

“Why? What’s wrong with him?” Phil asked, although he had a hunch.

“Mr. Lester, I don’t know if you are aware but this isn’t Daniel’s first suicide attempt,” Dr. Brown bluntly stated.

Phil’s stomach dropped. He felt nauseous and dizzy. _Suicide attempt? No. Not my Dan. He must be mistaken. There has been a mistake._ He told himself.

The doctor paused allowing Phil to absorb his statement.

“Before you can visit Daniel, I will need you to sign some papers on Daniel’s behalf and answer a few questions.”

“Okay,” Phil said quietly. He’d rather not continue speaking with Dr. Brown; he just wanted to see his best friend.

Ten minutes later, Phil followed the doctor down the fluorescent-lit hall to Dan’s room. From outside the door, he could hear the steady beeping from a heart monitor. He knew that was the sound of Dan’s heart. A wave of relief washed over Phil’s body: Dan’s heart was beating and he was going to be okay.

“Now, he is still asleep from sedation medication. His arms are bandaged heavily to protect his stitches. Call a nurse if you need anything,” Dr. Brown explained and walked away.

Phil slowly opened the door and walked into Dan’s hospital room. The room was dimly lit and painted light blue. Two chairs sat on one side of the wall, a window on another. A small table sat near the bed where Dan was asleep, his curly brown hair splayed across the white pillow case. Stark white bedsheets covered most of his body; his arms were lying on top of the sheets. Each forearm was wrapped in thick white gauze. An I.V. line ran from his right hand to a medical device near the head of the bed. The heart rate monitor was clipped to his right index finger. Dan was wearing the typical hospital attire-a colorless gown.

Phil made his way to Dan’s bedside and pulled up a chair. “Um, hey Dan,” Phil began. Dan probably wasn’t able to hear him, but he wanted to speak. He needed to fill the somber silence that suffocated the room. “I don’t know what to say. I’m relieved that you are okay and alive. But don’t ever do that again. I don’t care if it was on purpose or by accident but don’t ever try to take your life again Daniel James Howell.” He didn’t realize he had raised his voice. Phil was feeling a lot of emotions-upset, scared, sad and surprisingly angry. Angry that Dan even consider committing suicide; that he could possibly do such a thing to himself, his friends, his family, to Phil.

“I can’t lose you Dan.” Phil whispered. He cried as he sat next to his best friend. The beeping of the heart monitor and Phil’s heart-wrenching sobs echoed throughout the room.

Around midnight, a nurse came to check on Dan. She informed Phil that the sedatives will be wearing off and Dan would be awake soon. To calm his nerves, Phil reached out and played with Dan’s left fingers, tracing their shape, being careful not to move them. Phil stared at the small slivers that peeked out from the gauze. Suddenly, Dan rotated his palm so it was face up, as if offering his hand for Phil to hold.

“Ow,” Dan said hoarsely.

“You’re awake!” Phil exclaimed standing up to look at Dan.

Dan sleepily turned to look at Phil. Brown eyes locking with blue ones.

“Where am I? What is that beeping? Why do my arms hurt?”

_He doesn’t know what happened,_ Phil thought to himself.

“Um,” Phil cleared his throat, looking down at the bandages on Dan’s arms. Phil was too scared to tell him.

Dan followed his gaze. “Oh crap.”

He stared at his forearms for a moment. He lifted his gaze and made eye contact again with Phil.

“I didn’t mean to, Phil. I’m sorry,” Dan said quietly.

Dan had always been self-conscious of his arms. He didn’t like people judging his morbid artwork that was etched on his skin. He carefully tried to fold his arms across his chest to lessen the noticeable gauze and what lay beneath the bandages. He winced in pain.

“No Daniel. Don’t you dare try to hide your arms. Not anymore.” Phil was mad. “Unfold your arms, Dan.”

Dan just blinked back at Phil.

“Daniel James Howell. I mean it. You can’t hide this. And you can’t hide from _this_ ,” Phil gestured to the room.

Dan unfolded his arms. He ran his hands over each wrap of gauze, absorbing what Phil said.

Phil sat down on the side of the hospital bed. “What happened, Dan? Please tell me how we got here. I promise I won’t be mad or anything.”

Dan took a deep breath. He hated difficult conversations.  

“I was getting better, Phil.” Dan stated, still staring at his arms.

“What happened?” Phil prompted again.

“I guess after that night when I got drunk because I couldn’t feel any emotions and then I destroyed the kitchen, the thoughts returned.”

“What kind of thoughts?”

“The bad ones. They hate me. I used to have control over them but I lost control after that night.”

Phil was trying to piece together what caused them to be in this predicament. “Did the bad thoughts make you hurt yourself?”

Dan nodded. A tear slipped down his face. “They were just so loud. I wanted them to shut up. They did after this.” He lifted his arms slowly.

“Oh Danny,” Phil said. He wanted to hug his friend but didn’t want to hurt him. He opted to hold his hand instead.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” Phil said, feeling guilty that he wasn’t home to stop Dan.

“Don’t be sorry, Phil. It’s not your fault. It’s all mine and my stupid thoughts. I’m so freaking weak.”

“No Dan. You are not weak. You are so strong for dealing with this, especially on your own. But I think it’s time you get help. Destroy those thoughts. Let me help you, and the doctors can help, too. The bad thoughts will go away,” Phil said.

“How do you know?”

“Because I know what it’s like to be consumed by your own mind,” Phil replied.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: mentions of self-harm; mentions of death  
> (this chapter's a short one!)

“What do you mean? You understand the pain of destructive thoughts?” Dan questioned, a worried look on his face.

Phil stared at his legs which were dangling off the side of the bed. “I don’t really like to discuss it, but I guess I should tell you,” Phil stated. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the looming conversation.

“A few months before I graduated university, my best friend Nick suddenly passed away. I had grown up with him. We were planning on moving to London together after school. His death, like, flipped a switch in me. I couldn’t function. I went from hanging out with friends and going to class to staying locked in my room, avoiding people and falling into a black hole.”

Phil paused as he figured out what to say next. Dan grabbed Phil’s hand to offer comfort.

Phil adjusted his fringe and continued discussing his past. “I put walls up to divide myself from a world without Nick. It wasn’t a logical or healthy thing to do, but I was grieving. When you spend hours isolated in your room, your thoughts become your only company, as you may know.”

Dan nodded. “I can presume those thoughts weren’t positive ones, right?”

“Yeah,” Phil replied, “Had you not come along, I don’t think I could have defeated the intrusive thoughts that dominated my mind. You didn’t know what I was going through, but your comments on my posts and stuff were the highlight of my day. The more we interacted online, the more I wanted to meet you. And I couldn’t meet you in-real-life if I continued to outcast myself.”

Dan smiled, remembering the first time they met. “So I pulled you out of the black hole?” Dan asked, making eye contact with Phil.

Phil returned a smile, “Yes, you did. I also talked to a therapist to learn how to cope with the loss of Nick. And my parents and friends were a comfort as well. To be honest, I don’t think I would be alive if it wasn’t for you, Dan. I could have easily let my demons win.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Dan played with Phil’s fingers, even though his arm ached. Phil stared off into the distance, reminiscing on his past.

“You know, you didn’t have to keep that part of your life a secret. Yes, it is a sad and dark chapter of your past, but it’s an important part of your story. ” Dan stated.  

“I know. I guess Nick’s death is still something I’m not completely over. I’m also not proud of how I reacted to it all.”

“I’m not proud of this,” Dan gestured to his arms, “But it’s something I have to live with. I am learning bottling up your emotions and thoughts doesn’t ever end well. So if you ever want to talk about Nick or anything, I’m all ears.”

“Thanks, Dan. And I’m always here for you. I’m glad we’re friends.”

Phil made eye contact with Dan. “Me too Phil. Me too.”  


******                                                 


Dr. Brown entered Dan’s room at one in the morning. He discussed what was going to happen next: Dan is going to be admitted to the psychiatric ward for a minimum of seven days. The doctors want to observe his behaviors to determine the appropriate treatment and prevention methods so Dan won’t try to harm himself again. Phil will be able to visit him every day. Neither of the boys is happy about the whole thing, but they both know it is what Dan needs to heal.

The sun was rising as Phil walked through the hospital doors. Dan insisted he went home to get some rest. Phil was also going to pack a bag for Dan, since he won’t be home for a while. Phil could have called a cab for the journey home, but he opted to walk. He wanted some time to process everything that happened with Dan.

He unlocked the front door with a sigh. He didn’t like being alone in the apartment; he preferred the presence of his best friend. He removed his shoes and went to the lounge. He purposely avoided his bedroom; he didn’t feel like he could face the remnants of what had transpired there earlier that night. Exhausted, he collapsed on the sofa and immediately fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Dan lay awake in the uncomfortable hospital bed, staring at the wall. He was playing with a small piece of gauze on his right arm that had started coming unwrapped. The room was quiet. His arms ached and he had a headache. He wished Phil was here to keep him company.

He realized his thoughts were particularly calm. “I guess slitting my wrists was enough to silence my mind?” Dan asked himself aloud. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. _But I still feel empty._

                       

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: mentions of suicide attempt, mentions of depression, self-harm, hospital, intrusive thoughts

Phil squinted as he stepped in to the mid-morning sun. He locked the apartment door and started his daily trek to the hospital. It was warmer than average for late winter; he regretted wearing a long sleeve black and red flannel shirt and black skinny jeans. The galaxy backpack strapped to his back bounced with every step he took.

Phil usually listened to music on his walk to the hospital to visit Dan but today he opted to abandon his headphones and reminisce on the past weeks of their lives…

Dan was originally admitted for seven days to the psychiatric ward. However, one week had evolved in to four.

Within the first day of Dan’s stay, he was diagnosed with clinical depression. The diagnosis was overwhelming but also a relief for both Dan and Phil. Dan had an illness that could be treated; he wasn’t going to feel emotionless forever, like he had worried about. 

The next week wasn’t easy. The boys were faced with difficult decisions: how to properly treat Dan, whether or not to use medication, what therapy (if any) would be suitable and so on. By the end of the week, Dan was itching to be discharged and Phil was looking forward to having his best friend home.

However, on the night before Dan’s scheduled release, a nurse found him in the bathroom in front of shattered mirror. A shard of the mirror was Dan’s weapon of choice in his attempt to battle his demons. Five more stitches had been added to the collection. Three more weeks had been added to his hospital stay, since he clearly wasn’t ready to handle the bad thoughts in a safe manner.

The relapse devastated Phil, but he refused to reveal this to his best friend. He tried to remain strong in the face of Dan’s weaknesses; Phil would rather cry on his pillow instead of Dan’s shoulder.

The time Phil didn’t spend visiting the hospital was spent preparing for the upcoming world tour. He opted to put YouTube on hold, announcing his decision in a live show a few days after Dan was admitted. He told fans they were busy preparing for the tour. Thankfully, everyone was understanding and supportive.

*****

Phil walked through the hospital doors, the smell of sanitizer immediately filling his nostrils. He made his way to Dan’s room on the second floor after getting his visitor pass from the receptionist. Unfortunately, the hospital visits to see his best friend had become an all-too-familiar part of Phil’s routine.

Phil knocked on the door of Room 209.

“Hey Phil!” Dan greeted as he opened the door. He wore grey sweatpants and a matching shirt, standard hospital attire.

“Good morning Dan!” Phil returned. The small room had become Dan’s residence in the past weeks. He walked to Dan’s bed, which sat in the corner under a window. Dan was emptying the chest of drawers opposite of the bed.

“I should be ready in about a half an hour. Dr. Harder wants to meet with us and then I need to pick up my medication,” Dan said as he packed up his toiletries bag.

Before they could continue their conversation, a brunette nurse entered the room. “Alright Mr. Howell and Mr. Lester, Dr. Harder is ready to see you,” she announced.

The boys followed her in to Dr. Harder’s office. He had overseen the majority of Dan’s stay. They took a seat in the brown leather chairs that were placed in front of the doctor’s desk.

“Good morning. I am sure you are both looking forward to going home but we need to address a few topics before I can discharge Mr. Howell,” Dr. Harder explained while he handed the boys some paperwork.

“As you know, Dan has been prescribed the anti-depressant citalopram, which should be taken once a day. Depression isn’t something that is magically cured with a pill so don’t be discouraged if you still have bad days, Dan,” he said, turning to face Dan.

“And Phil, you are Dan’s support system. It is very important to Dan’s recovery that he maintains basic self-care, like exercise and healthy eating,” Dr. Harder explained to Phil. “Most importantly, depression doesn’t define Dan. It is no one’s fault that he has to live with it. You are both very strong individuals and I have faith that someday, Dan, you will feel like you have defeated those bad thoughts.” Phil smiled at Dan, imaging what that day would be like.

“Thank you, Dr. Harder,” Dan and Phil said in unison.

“And if you boys have any questions or concerns or just need someone to talk to, feel free to contact us,” Dr. Harder added as they exited the room together.

After going to the pharmacy for the medication, they returned to Dan’s room. As Dan finished packing, he asked Phil, “Please tell me you brought a change of clothes for me. I am so tired of wearing ugly sweatshirts and sweatpants.”

“Oh, yes. I did. Here you go,” Phil unzipped his backpack and handled Dan a stack of black clothes and a pair of black sneakers. Dan exited the room to change in the bathroom next door.

“That feels so much better. Nice to match my soul again,” Dan laughed as he walked out of the bathroom wearing a fuzzy long sleeve black shirt and black skinny jeans. He was silently grateful Phil had brought a long sleeve shirt; his arms were still healing.

Phil grabbed Dan’s blue suitcase and off they went. As they walked exited the hospital, Dan sighed, “I never thought I would say it but it feels so nice to be outside. I never knew I could miss the sun.”

Phil smiled at Dan as he said, “Even I don’t think I’ve gone a month without stepping foot outside.”

“Yeah. It’s a new record,” Dan replied, a sad tone hidden behind his comment. The boys continued to chat while they walked home.           

 *****

Four weeks after that dark night of Dan’s suicide attempt, Dan and Phil walk through their apartment door, finally home.

“Nice to be back,” Dan commented as he set down his bag.

“What did you miss the most? Video games? Good food? Your room?” Phil asked as he took off his shoes and placed them by the front door.

“Definitely food that doesn’t taste like hospital and served on a plastic tray,” Dan replied.

“I’ll make us some lunch then,” Phil said.

“I’m going to take a shower first. I miss the privacy of a locking bathroom door,” Dan stated.

They went their separate ways. Phil was a little nervous to have Dan leave his sight, considering everything that had occurred when he wasn’t in Phil’s presence. _I need to trust Dan,_ Phil reminded himself as he started to make lunch. _If he was a risk to himself, he wouldn’t have been released from the care of doctors._

Dan stood in the steaming shower, water beating down his back. He noticed Phil removed all sharp objects from the bathroom. At first, he was angry at Phil for not trusting him. However, anger dissolved to contrition. He didn’t realize how much the past weeks had affected his best friend. Dan swallowed the lump in his throat and turned off the faucet.

As Dan changed in to some black sweats and a dark blue hoodie, his mind began to wander. _I bet Phil liked it better when you were locked up in an insane asylum. No. Shut up. I was in the hospital to get better. I’m not crazy. Once you’re all better, I’m sure Phil will leave you. He is being sympathetic and pitying you. Be quiet. He had to rearrange his life to take care of your pathetic mess of a life._ Intrusive thoughts infiltrated his mind. He tried to focus on his breathing, but to no avail. _You should abandon Phil and crawl into you bed. No, I have to go downstairs. I am not going to let my mind win._ Dan took a deep breath and made his way downstairs. He was proud that he didn’t give in to his negative thoughts, even though they were still echoing in his head.

Phil smiled as his roommate entered the kitchen. “I figured I would make your favorite stir-fry,” Phil said as plated the food.

“Looks good. Thanks Phil,” Dan replied. He tried to maintain a normal tone and hide his inner emotions.

They took their plates in to the lounge to watch television and eat. Phil chowed down while Dan ate slowly as he tried to ignore the intrusive thoughts that were running through his mind. After a few minutes, Phil could sense something was off with Dan.

“You feeling okay Dan? You haven’t eaten much. I thought you were hungry,” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Dan set his plate on the coffee table. He rubbed his eyes as decided how to answer the question: _Should I lie and say I’m fine or actually talk to Phil about what’s eating my mind?_

“No Phil. I am not okay,” Dan replied, his voice shaking.

Phil was worried now. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. Uh, everything is wrong. Well, not everything but everything isn’t right. I don’t know. Um,” Dan stumbled over his words, his mind caught between reality and his inner monologue. He played with his fingers, willing his mind to silence.

Phil noticed Dan seemed overwhelmed. He reached out for Dan’s hand to hold as if he was trying to pull Dan out the black hole of his mind.

Dan decided to try and form his thoughts to words again, “Th-the bad th-thoughts are, uh, back.”

“Oh Dan. It’s okay. You know they aren’t just going to disappear.”

“I was so hopeful that the second I walked through the front door that I would be better,” Dan said quietly.

“You remember what Dr. Harder said? Depression doesn’t just go away. It’s going to take time you know,” Phil said.

Dan remained silent. He turned to Phil and embraced his best friend. Dan was sad and frustrated and overwhelmed and just needed Phil.

“It’s okay, Dan. I’m sorry you are going through a lot,” Phil said as he pulled Dan onto his lap. Dan placed his head on Phil’s shoulder as Phil started rubbing circles on Dan’s back.

“You’re sorry? I’m the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t realize how much my situation has affected you,” Dan leaned away from Phil and made eye contact. “I noticed you took away the shaving razor from the shower.

This statement caught Phil off-guard. “Oh, um, I am just worried about you Dan. It’s not that I don’t trust you but want you to get better and not be triggered by stuff like that. ”

“I get it. I’m still sorry,” Dan explained.

“You’re forgiven, even though you shouldn’t apologize for your demons,” Phil replied. “They don’t deserve that kind of humanity.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: mentions of suicide, depression, intrusive thoughts

Within a few days, the boys were back to their typical busy routine of making videos and preparing for the world tour. When the time was right, they would address Dan’s depression. Neither of the boys felt ready to open up about such a private and personal part of their story.

Although fewer and far between, Dan still has his “bad days.”

As expected, the weeks leading up to the tour were stressful. Phil did his best to make sure Dan was eating healthy, exercising daily, attending his weekly therapy sessions and taking his medication. Phil often felt like he was responsible for Dan’s well-being since Phil was Dan’s support system, especially on the occasional “bad day.”

Three weeks after being discharged, Dan had one of his “bad days.” Phil knew something was off with Dan when he didn’t join him for breakfast that Friday morning.

“You feeling okay, Dan?” Phil asked as he stood in the doorway to Dan’s bedroom. Dan was staring at the ceiling, his bedsheets piled on top of him.

Dan turned to look at Phil. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Dan was never one to open up about his feelings but the weekly therapy sessions he was attending helped him recognize the importance of talking to others about what was going on in his head.

“I’m sorry, Dan. It’s okay,” Phil said as he walked to Dan’s bedside and sat down next to his best friend. The mattress dipped towards Phil and Dan’s body rolled closer to him.

“I know you probably want to just stay here all day but we have a meeting with the set designers today at noon. We need to finalize the set and I can’t do it alone,” Phil explained. Dan looked up at Phil with pleading eyes in hopes of relaying the message of _please just let me wallow in my self-pity and get lost in my black hole of thoughts_.

Phil sighed. He hated seeing Dan in such a desolate state. “I’m sorry Dan. You are going to have to be a functioning member of society today, at least for a few hours. Come on, please get up and change. We have to leave in a half hour.”

Dan decided to speak since his facial expression weren’t successful. “Please Phil, let me stay home. I don’t feel good. I just want to sink in to this mattress and disappear for the day. I’m too exhausted to live today.”

“You and I both know letting you mope around in bed all day isn’t healthy. Getting dressed, eating and being productive is healthy. You will thank me later, once you are feeling better,” Phil persuaded as he brushed Dan’s curly hair out of his eyes.

Dan pulled back his covers with a sigh. He hated when Phil was right.

*****  
The exciting event of finalizing the set design for the upcoming tour was overshadowed by Dan’s morose mood. Phil tried to keep the meeting brief for Dan’s sake. Phil did most of the talking with the artists; Dan nodding in agreement with everything his friend said.

Phil was grateful Dan came along but he was disappointed at Dan’s lack of enthusiasm and effort to collaborate with the designers. _Dan is struggling enough with his mental health. Complaining about his lackluster behavior isn’t going to help the situation,_ Phil reminded himself on the walk back to the apartment.

Upon arriving home, Dan immediately started walking up the stairs to his room. He was looking forward to burrowing under his blankets and letting the bad thoughts run their destructive course.

“Where are you going? You should eat lunch so you can take you anti-depressants,” Phil asked as he took off his jacket.

“To bed. Where do you think I’m going?” Dan responded tersely. He was still peeved Phil made him go to the meeting and do something productive.

Phil was taken aback by Dan’s sassy tone. “Excuse me?”

“I said I’m going back to bed, where I should I have been all day. I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to take my medication. I don’t need you to tell me what to do. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Dan responded. He continued to walk upstairs.

“Do you think I like spending every waking minute of my life making sure you are okay? Do you think I like telling you what to do?” Phil exclaimed. Dan stopped walking and turned to look at Phil. “Because I don’t. I wish we could just be flatmates and friends. Instead, I am stuck being your caretaker because you are too lost in your head to know how to function,” Phil was frustrated and this shown in his voice.

Dan raised his voice as he started walking back downstairs to where Phil was standing in the hallway. “I understand that you feel responsible for me. I understand that you worry about my health. I understand that I have put you through a lot recently. I understand that you want me to be better. But you don’t understand what it is like to be me. You don’t understand what it’s like to wake up and wish you were six feet under. You don’t understand what it’s like to feel empty all the time. You don’t understand what it’s like to depend on a bottle of anti-depressants to make you feel human again. You don’t understand what it’s like to live in the shadow of happiness.”

The tension in the room was palpable. Dan was standing directly in front of Phil. Dan’s mocha eyes were firmly fixed on Phil’s cerulean eyes. Dan’s arms were folded across his chest; he was in defensive mode. Phil stood up straight, his knuckles clenched at his side.

Phil swallowed as he processed Dan’s statements. His frustration was melting in to compassion. “I’m sorry but I can’t offer you my empathy. You, Dan, are fighting against yourself. And I promise you will make it out alive. I promise you won’t live in the shadow of happiness forever.”


	10. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Five months after fearing he would be emotionless forever, a spotlight is shining on Dan, a wide grin on his face. Phil is stood beside him, laughing and smiling. They take a bow as the audience cheers. Music is blasting through the theater. Colorful lights are illuminating the stage. Hand-in-hand, Dan and Phil exit the stage.

“We did it!” Phil exclaims as he high-fives Dan.

“I would say our first show of the tour was a success, Dan replied, removing his microphone pack from his pocket.      

“It was so much fun. I had a great time. And I think everyone loved it,” Phil said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Dan paused. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I think I actually feel happy. Like, not a fake, pretend happy. Genuinely content. It’s something I haven’t felt in years. The clouds have cleared and I am in the rays of happiness.”

Phil smiled as he turned to Dan.

“That’s what I feel every single day since I met you, Danny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work of fiction I have ever written. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! Feedback/comments are welcome :)


End file.
